


had your fill [of sinking]

by babybirdblues



Series: from the very first  [dicktim week 2019] [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hospitals, Implied abuse, Injury, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Swearing, Violence, dicktimweek2019, no capes AU, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:21:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21825064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybirdblues/pseuds/babybirdblues
Summary: Tim is incredibly stupid for supposedly being so smart.  It's how he got into this ridiculous mess.  Not only is he having to lie to his family, but now he's having to lie to himself.He's not falling in love with one Dick Grayson.  He's not.  Dick's just being a good friend slash coworker and helping him pretend to be in a happy relationship. . .  Tim's so fucked.
Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson
Series: from the very first  [dicktim week 2019] [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570708
Comments: 11
Kudos: 78
Collections: Dick Tim Week 2019





	had your fill [of sinking]

**Author's Note:**

> Day three of DickTim week -- early again! And this one is a WIP. Like, I know it's long but it's not anywhere near done. It'll probably be 50k when it's done. So, this one is for Fake Dating AU and Ocean. You don't really get to see the ocean part yet. Ahahaha. Sorry about that. But enjoy!

Tim doesn’t even know about the wedding until Steph calls him. It’s one thirty in the morning and he might be a little drunk.

“Haven’t you checked your mail -- voice or otherwise -- recently, boy wonder?”

It takes a few minutes of staring at the phone before it clicks. “Uh -- hi, Steph.”

“Don’t you ‘ _ hi, Steph _ ’ me, mister!” her voice sounds tinny with the phone held away from Tim’s ear. “I left you a message over a month ago!”

They haven’t gone that long without talking. Tim always phones Steph every Friday -- like clockwork. No matter how they’re doing at the time, Tim promised to phone her. (He never wants to scare her like that again. Never wants to make her feel like he’s not going to be there when she next opened her eyes. Because even if they didn’t work out, he still loves her.) 

“Uh, I checked them Frid--”

“Which Friday was that? The last one, where you didn’t call? Or the one before that, where you didn’t call? Or maybe the one before that one too!”

It’s one thirty in the morning, Tim might be a little drunk, and his ex-girlfriend slash one of his best friends is yelling at him with her voice breaking due to tears.

Tim can’t really do this right now.

He hangs up.

<<<<>>>>

Tim’s mouth tastes like something died in it.

Nothing did -- at least, nothing that wasn’t already dead. He’s pretty sure that last night’s dinner didn’t sit well. And, you know, considering the bottle of raspberry vodka he sort of remembers drinking all of, he’s not entirely surprised. Jason’s moonshine is there too. Sort of. Tim almost remembers finding it in Jason’s box spring -- he’ll need to remind Jason to pick a better hiding place.

What Tim doesn’t remember is going to Gotham General. Waking up there is a bit of a surprise. Or not. Considering that, in hindsight, hanging up on Steph was probably the worst decision of last night. Well, no, hanging up on Steph sort of falls in the middle of all the bad decisions -- Tim swears he’s never going to drink again. 

That’s a lie. 

He’ll probably drink the next time he feels that low; so, Tim’ll like, not drink alone again. That sounds like a better goal to make. 

Tim must make a sound, because when he next opens his eyes -- he was just taking a really long blink, he swears -- there’s a blurry figure leaning over him.

A few blinks later it morphs into Steph.

There’s a puffiness to her eyes that Tim recognizes. One that he’s put there before and he keeps promising the last time would really be the last.

“You’re such an asshole, boy wonder.” Steph’s legs buckle under her and she collapses into a chair that’s tucked right up next to Tim’s bed.

“Guilty,” Tim’s throat is raw and talking hurts. But he’s going to apologize. “And I’m so--”

“Don’t apologize. I don’t want another apology, I don’t want another promise,” Steph scrubs at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I just -- Tim, you can’t keep doing this.”

He knows. “I know.”

Tim doesn’t know what else to say. Because he keeps promising and keeps apologizing and he still keeps hurting her. He tries. He wants to keep trying. It’s just really hard some days. Part of him is angry at Steph; she used to know this. It used to be the two of them against the world -- even when it was just Tim and Steph not TimandSteph. Now it’s just Tim, and just Steph. 

“Stop it, just stop it, Tim.”

He starts, arms coming up in defense -- normally that tone means Steph’s about to punch him -- and ripping out the IV out of his left arm.

“Shitfu--ow.”

“Timothy Jackson Drake!” that is a new voice. One he sort of recognizes. Maybe. “What do you think you are doing?”

He looks up, from where he’s holding down on his arm, which is now bleeding. The new voice is the older nurse who’s been working here since Tim can remember. But does Tim remember her name? Nope. So, he pastes on a charming smile and hopes he’s not about to be reamed out.

“I didn’t mean to. It really was an accident.”

“Like last night was an accident, young man?”

Ouch.

Steph sighs as she stands, moving out of the way for the nurse. “He knows he’s an idiot, Millie. See that look on his face? That’s his guilt-is-eating-me-alive face.”

Millie. That’s right. She was a nurse in the maternity ward when Tim was born. 

“Hmmph,” she’s quick to bandage his arm, and before Tim knows it, his vitals are done. “Does Janet know how much of an idiot you’re being, young man?”

“No one needs to tell mom!” it’s high and panicked but Tim stands by that. Janet doesn’t need to know that Tim ended up in the General because he drank too much -- again. She probably does, because Janet is all knowing, but no one has to like, actually  _ tell her _ .

Millie’s shoulders shake as she laughs at him. “Well, the least you can do is thank Stephanie here, the dear. Since the moment you were brought in she was with you, young man. Now, she wasn’t on duty, but Doctor Smith let her sit in while he pumped your stomach.”

Well shit.

“Millie, come on,” Steph collapses back in her chair as the older woman switches sides. “You’re gonna send him into hiding.”

She looks at Steph, raising an eyebrow and tsking, but subsides.

“Well,” the needle for the new IV goes in with more force than strictly necessary. “You’ll probably be released today. Doctor Smith just wants to do another full blood work. The results should be in in a few hours.”

“Thank you.”

Tim watches her leave. It’s better than looking at Steph; who knows what her face is doing now that they’re alone again? Steph doesn’t say anything, just takes his hand. They fall into silence. Partly because Tim doesn’t know what to say other than false promises and too late apologies.

“You’re going to come to my wedding,” Steph says at last, squeezing his hand and daring him to say something. “You’re going to be my best man.”

Damian’s going to have an issue with that. Partly because Tim’s Steph’s ex and partly because Tim is Damian’s hated ex-step-brother. Tim’s also fairly certain that Damian is going to forever be a spoilt demon child.

“And! You’re going to go on a date with my friend.”

“No!” the word breaks as Tim chokes it out. He doesn’t mean it to be that loud either. “No. I am sort of seeing someone!”

Steph probably doesn’t believe him. To be fair, Tim doesn’t really believe himself either. He hasn’t had a date since that failed fling with Connor at the end of sophomore year.

“It’s new-er. The relationship, I mean,” Tim is so glad that he’s not hooked up to a heart monitor right now. “We haven’t really discussed being exclusive? But I mean, I’ll bring him, er, ask him?”

Tim stares at the starched bed sheet covering his lap. If he doesn’t look Steph in the eye he can’t feel guilty. Steph squeezes his hand tighter.

“All riiiiight,” it’s long, drawn out and Tim wants to laugh until he cries. Steph’s not believing him for a second -- and she’s in the right.

“Seriously,” Tim detangles their hands. “I’ll ask him and I’ll be there regardless, okay?”

He looks up then, giving a tentative smile in response to Steph’s beaming one.

“I’m holding you to that, boy wonder,” her eyes sparkle and her smile morphs into a smirk. “If you let me down again, I’m gonna tell Janet.”

Why do people always have to threaten with his mother?

<<<<>>>>

Tim’s no longer dehydrated and his liver is functioning normally, which Tim knew, because it’s not like he’s drinking on the regular. But, he understands why Doctor Smith would want to run the tests. 

“You’re to take it easy for the next few days and no alcohol for at least a week.”

“I have no desire to drink for like a year, Doctor Smith,” Tim hopes his smile is as sincere as his words are. Right now, at least, he has no desire to lay eyes on alcohol.

Dr. Smith eyes him skeptically, but leave, letting Millie finish with the discharge papers.

“I don’t want to see you here again, young man,” she taps the papers on top of his head, using her free hand to shake her finger in Tim’s face. “You got that?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She turns to Steph, “Now, you get this boy home and I’ll see you at three, all right dear?”

“You work today?” it comes out as a yelp, high pitched and worried. “Damn it Steph, you shouldn’t have spent the time with me! You should have been sleeping or--”

“You mean lying in bed worrying about you?”

And okay, yeah, that’s probably what would have happened. It’s what happened in the past, back when Tim was a dumb sixteen year old thinking he was invincible on the roads of Gotham’s underground racing circuit. 

Rolling her eyes, Steph begins pulling him towards the street, waving in passing to her coworkers.

“Yeah, thought so,” she stops to sanitize her hands, forcing Tim to do it too. “So, anyways, cab, Uber or the trains?”

Tim shakes his head. “I can get a ride Steph, don’t worry about it. If Kon can’t come and pick me up then I’ll get an Uber by myself.”

“With what phone, boy wonder?”

Well damn. He’ll have to use the hospital ones and if he can’t get Kon he’ll have to call his mother.

“Oh don’t look like that, borrow mine,” she digs it out of her pocket, unlocking it before passing it over. While he fiddles with it she squints and unconsciously pinches his arm. “You are 100% sure you’re okay by yourself?”

“Absolutely,” he fiddles with Steph’s phone, trying to remember if Kon’s working. “You have two hours until your shift. My apartment is too far for you to go with me to it and then make it back. I’ll be okay. I won’t do anything stupid.”

<<<<>>>>

Kon’s Rabbit has seen better days. Not to say it’s in terrible shape. It’s just, Tim’s pretty sure that the mirrors haven’t actually been fixed on it since Kon inherited it from Clark, back when he was just learning to drive. He could also do without the springs digging into his back if he sits properly in the passenger seat. But, you know, it’s good of Kon to come pick him up while he’s working.

“You told Steph you have a boyfriend.”

Tim curls further into his arms, making himself as small as possible while still staying in his seat belt. “I know.”

“You told Steph that you were going to bring that boyfriend to her wedding, which you’re going to be her best man slash maid of honour at.”

“I know.”

“You’re fucked, man.”

Tim thinks Kon deserves to be punched -- preferably in the face. But, one, he’s driving, two, Tim is the passenger and three, well, basically it all comes down to the fact that Kon’s driving. Tim doesn’t want to be in an accident having just left the hospital.

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder.”

“Just saying, bro.” Kon’s eyes are sparkling as he turns to check his blind spot and Tim really wants to punch the smirk off of his face. “You couldn’t have told her the truth?”

“The truth would have set me up on a date with one of her friends that I do not know.”

“Yeah, alright, I see how -- it’s called a signal you jizzstained crotch goblin -- that would be super bad for you dude,” he slams the horn and flips off the other driver. Tim always forgets how bad Kon’s road rage is until he’s back in a car with him. “But I mean, you shoulda just told her that you wanted to be single.”

Tim slowly releases his grip on the seat. “Yeah, you’ve met Steph, right?”

Kon shrugs, even as his eyes narrow at the next stoplight -- he’s probably daring it to change. “Yeah, she’s a cool chick.”

Tim lets himself slump further in the seat. “All right. Just get me home, please. I want to sleep for a week.”

“Just sleep?”

“Just sleep,” Tim winces as Kon accelerates. “I know I fucked up, okay?”

He watches as Kon’s shoulders scrunch up around his shoulders, knuckles whitening.

“I never said--”

“You didn’t need to Kon,” his head thunks against the seat. “I know I fucked up. I fuck up every single time I’m left alone for too long, don’t I?”

His friend sighs, shifting gears and making the turn -- finally -- onto Tim’s street. “I wouldn’t say that. You just, you get lost sometimes, bro.”

“And then--”

“And then you scare us, yeah. But you gotta give yourself a break. I know you’ve taken psychology courses, dude. You know it’s not your fault that your brain goes off on you sometimes.”

Kon parks. His shoulders have loosened and he’s not gripping the steering wheel as tightly. Tim wants to reach out and grab his hand. But he doesn’t. Because he knows that Kon has to get back to work. He can’t stay and babysit Tim.

“Hey man, I love you,” Kon’s smile is so earnest and non-judgmental that Tim breaks down and cries for the first time since he passed out last night.

Kon doesn’t make it back to work on time.

<<<<>>>>

Tim stumbles in the door just in time to hear the end notes of his ringtone. He really doesn’t want to check it. He just wants to crawl into bed -- the Emotions talk with Kon just now did nothing to help that feeling.

But.

It could be Steph making sure he got home all right. It could also be Kon making sure he didn’t decide to curl up on the stairs and die. And, well, the worst it could be is Janet. She’s going to corner him sooner than later and Tim would rather it be on the phone.

So, Tim breathes deeply through his nose and forces himself to find his phone. Somehow, in his drunken stupor, it ended up under the TV console. Tim ends up folded into a pretzel as he tries to reach under it -- without moving the coffee table or the couch. So, when it starts to ring, Tim yelps, flailing his arms in an attempt to push himself backwards, only to end up smashing his head off the edge of the console. 

“ _ Fuck. _ ”

Fortunately, Tim has his phone to ring and vibrate. The vibrations bring it close enough that Tim can snatch it up. The call will go to voicemail soon, so, Tim fumbles with the phone, resigning himself to laying on the floor for whatever conversation is coming.

“‘Lo?”

“Tim?”

Tim yelps again as he sits straight -- they need to invest in furniture with less pointy edges. “Bruce! Hi! How are you? I didn’t do it?”

Bruce’s laughter always makes him feel warm inside, especially when he’s the one who has drawn it out of his former-step-dad. Then, he feels guilty because he never felt this way with Jack, not even when he desperately wanted his approval.

“That sounds like a question, champ.”

Tim groans. “It is. I have no idea why you’re phoning and I’m sorry, I’ve had a rough day and know nothing so I’m gonna say sorry in advance.”

There’s silence. Tim thinks Bruce has hung up -- fears that he has -- but then a sigh echoes down the line. “You know you can phone me when things get overwhelming, right son?”

He knows. Sort of. He’s not Bruce’s responsibility anymore. Even if Bruce did adopt him, now that Janet and he are split, he’s not going to want to have to take responsibility for Tim and his fuck ups.

“Tim?”

“I,” Tim swallows; there’s a pressure on his chest. He just needs to sleep. Yeah, that’s all. “I know.”

“All right,” Bruce pauses and Tim can hear Alfred in the background. “Not right now, thank you Alfred. So, Tim, I hear you’ve decided to be part of the wedding. I’m glad. I feel like you’ll quite enjoy the villa. I know we never got around to going. I’m glad that you’ll get the chance.”

Shit. Bruce knows about his hospital visit.

“I’m fine!” Tim might be yelling. Maybe. He shouldn’t do that. Not to Bruce. “It was a mistake and I mean, yeah, I’m part of it. I’m honoured. I love Steph and I’m glad she’s happy and the grem--er, Damian is going to do right by her, I know and--”

“Tim. Tim, breathe,” there’s laughter in Bruce’s voice again. It helps calm Tim down. “I know you and Damian never got along, but I’m glad you’re putting it aside for this. Stephanie is a brilliant young woman and I’m happy to welcome her into the family, officially. I always knew she’d be part of the family ever since you brought her home but--”

The words are soothing. Tim feels the pressure in his chest loosening enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s gasping for breath. Soon enough, his breathing is even and he feels like he can tune back into what Bruce is saying.

“--I’m glad you’re all right. I admit when Steph texted I wished I was closer to home.”

That’s right. Bruce is in London right now, signing a deal with one of the big corporations there.

“You’ll phone next time you feel like you’re alone?”

Tim wants to call kettle. Wants to tell Bruce that he really isn’t the best person to be a role model when emotions are involved. But, well, Bruce is the best parental figure Tim’s had. For emotions and other things.

“I’ll try,” it’s the best Tim can do, because he can’t promise. Doesn’t know how he’ll be the next time. “I’ll try, I will.”

“I know you will, son.” Bruce’s voice is soft. Tim remembers the first winter he spent at the Wayne Manor. He caught the flu and it had developed into pneumonia. Bruce’s voice had been soft like that the entire time he was sick. “I love you, Tim.”

“Lo-love you too, Bruce.”

Tim swallows against the lump in his throat. It’s always so different saying that to Bruce than it was Jack -- than it is Janet.

“You’re still allowed to call me dad, Tim; if you’re comfortable doing so.”

Tim wishes this were in person. He can never tell what Bruce is actually feeling over the phone. Can never tell what anyone is feeling over the phone.

“I-- okay. Lo-love you too, d-dad.”

“I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay, champ? Don’t hesitate to call me. Even if I should be asleep.”

“You ne--” Tim yawns, jaw cracking with the force of it.

“You’d best get some actually sleep, too.” Bruce’s voice fades halfway through. “I have to go as well, but know I love you and will be seeing you soon. Goodnight, son.”

“Night, d-dad. Lo-love you.”

Tim waits until Bruce hangs up. It takes a few minutes, almost like Bruce was waiting for him. Tim sort of hopes so. Because then he’s not alone in the stupid habit.

Reluctantly, Tim pries himself off the ground. He aches everywhere. Like, literally everywhere. Tim didn’t know it was possible to hurt in places he’s hurting. Eventually Tim does manage to make it to his room. It took a lot of crawling, bumping into things and more than a few swear words.

Half-way between changing into pajamas Tim decides it’s too much effort and that going to bed naked, just this once, won’t hurt him. He probably should lock his door, he knows he should. But Jason’s not home. Tim doesn’t think he’ll be home before he wakes up either. So, just this once won’t hurt.

He’s too tired to finish changing anyways.

<<<<>>>>

“Yo,” Jason bangs the door open, not even bothering to check if Tim is awake or decent -- the answer to both of those is no. Tim really should be used to this by now; Jason’s been his roommate for three years. “Ya mom is here.”

There’s a sharp crack as Tim smashes his head off his bedside table. Jason just raises an eyebrow, hands on his hips like he’s judging Tim’s existence. To be fair, Tim sort of deserves it. He hasn’t cleaned his room in three weeks and he’s pretty sure that the left over Chinese from the last time they got take-out together is sentient under his bed.

“Fucking hell T-bone,” his nose is scrunched up, whether because he can smell the room or because he’s just disgusted is unknown. “What happened while I was at Roy’s?”

“Idecededmalevasoer.” Tim knows he should get up. The longer he lets his mom sit out there, the worse this will be. But he’s pretty okay here, in this pile of only-sort-of dirty clothing and despair. So what if Jason can see his ass? They’ve seen everything each other has. No big deal.

“Once more without trying to suffocate yaself,” there’s an unspoken ‘dumbass’ in there. Tim can hear it.

But, he still raises his head and repeats himself. “I decided my life was over.”

“Well, ain’t ya a melodramatic little shit.” Jason wanders over to kick him, managing to get his big toe right inbetween the bottom two of Tim’s ribs. “Now get dressed unless ya want to flash ya bits to Janet.”

“Why would you saaaaaay that?”

“Darling, I gave birth to you and raised you,” Janet’s voice comes from the living room, pausing to take a sip of whatever Jason’s served her. “There is nothing about you that I have not seen; unless of course, you’ve chosen to do body modifications.”

Jason, the dick, laughs. But he leaves Tim to get off the floor and come out. It takes more than a few minutes. Because Tim doesn’t really want to go out there and talk to her.

This is going to suck.

Tim finally does manage to make it to the living room. He doesn’t go very far into it though, collapsing on the couch and burying his face in the pillow.

“Timothy.”

He knows he really should face her, but the most he can do is take a quick glance at her face. She doesn’t seem mad. But, well, looks are everything to Janet Drake and to look collected and in control is everything.

“Mother,” it’s only clear because Tim knows better than to mumble it into the pillow. He’s still not looking at her though. Looking at her lets her take control of weakness.

She raises an eyebrow at him. He doesn’t see it, but he knows it’s there. “Really Timothy, must we do this every time?”

“I dunno,” Tim slumps further into the couch, finally unburrowing from the pillow. He glances at the TV only to see that one of Jason’s spanish telenovelas is playing on mute.. “Do you have to pry into everything I do?”

“I am your mother,” Janet’s shoulders slump as she closes her eyes. It’s almost like she’s aged years in a single moment. “I am allowed to be worried for you. And consid--”

“You get worried over everything!”

She does. Tim sort of wishes for the days when he was a footnote on her day. And then he feels guilty, well guiltier.

“And considering this morning I have every right to be worried, Timothy!”

“Wait,” Jason comes in from the kitchen, frown on his face and a towel hung over his shoulder. “What happened this morning?”

Well, shit.

“Noth--”

“Timothy,” Janet has never needed to raise her voice, which is why Tim feels his heart skip a beat as she does now. “Ended up in the ER with alcohol poisoning. They pumped his stomach.”

“¡Verga!” Jason obviously doesn’t care that Janet is in the room. “I leave y’alone for three days, pendejo. ¡Tres días! And ya do this shit.”

He retreats into the kitchen, slamming something on the counter. But, Jason’s back within moments, towering over the couch. “An’ do ya feel better for any of this? Pinche pendejo. ¡Chinga a tu madre!”

“Jason!” Tim shoot upwards, yelping in pain as his head collides with Jason’s. But, dude, his mom is _ right there _ . “My mom is right here.”

“Oy, ya know it ain’t, ain’t--”

“Literal, Jason?” Janet arches her eyebrow, recrosses her legs and picks up her cup.

“Thanks, Mama J,” he throws a small, sheepish grin at Janet. “It ain’t literal, pendejo.”

It is disgusting how charming Jason can be. Especially when it’s with Tim’s family and friends, who are supposed to be on his side.

“Still--”

“Nothin’ still about it, cabron.” Jason resumes towering over the couch. “Ya need to stop being so, so! Arg. ¡Eres un estúpido!”

Tim watches as Jason throws up his hands. He wants to argue that he’s not stupid. But, well, he doesn’t really have much evidence for that right now.

“Yes, Timothy. You cannot go on like this. How many times have I sent you the details for appointments you never go to? How many times must you ignore this?”

He doesn’t mean to ignore it. But, well, Tim tried to go to the appointments at first. Tried to talk to the psychologist and psychiatrists. None of it worked. Mostly because Janet looked at the schooling they had before hiring them, and not, you know, actual patient reviews. Sure, a lot of them were knowledgeable, but not a lot of them were willing to connect to Tim.

So, yeah. He doesn’t always, you know, pay attention to the things Janet sends him. Like reminders of appointments. And he doesn’t always reach out when he knows he should. It’s just hard with Janet.

“Furthermore, Timothy,” oh no, that’s Janet’s unimpressed voice. She has to have noticed that he hasn’t been paying attention. “I hear you are part of Stephanie and Damian’s wedding now?”

This can go either of two ways. One, she’s happy that Steph is getting married and moving on -- not that Steph and Tim weren’t moving on from their previous relationship. Or two, she’s going to be furious that Tim is going. Either way, she’s irritated over the fact that Tim’s not ‘behaving’ like she wants. So, dangerous territory.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Hmm. I also heard--”

Oh no.

“--that you have been seeing someone. Is there something you’d like to tell me, Timothy?”

Not only is that a trick question, it’s a trap. A very apparent one. But Tim’s never really learnt how to stay out of them -- not when it comes to his mother. “Not really.”

There’s a shattering noise from the kitchen. Tim hopes it’s not one of the good china his mother makes him keep for her visits. Janet would kill them both. Except Janet doesn’t seem all that bothered by the noise. Instead she’s sitting there, prim and proper. Tim watches her warily, body tense as it decides if he’s going to run or not.

Janet smiles then, all teeth and self satisfaction. “Oh Timothy, you know that you cannot keep a secret from me. If you’re that desperate to not fall into Stephanie’s scheming ways, hire an escort.”

Well.

It’s not that Tim didn’t think of it.

Just. Very briefly.

Because Steph knows him. Hell, everyone knows him too well to be fooled by an escort. No. He has three months to find someone he sort of knows and convince them to pretend to be sort of dating him.

Easy.

“Look,” Tim pauses and glances at Janet. “Thanks, for the idea, mom. Thanks for coming to check on me. I appreciate it. Just. I’m handling it. I’ll handle it. It’ll be fine.”

It probably won’t but he’s not accepting help from his mother in this. He doesn’t normally accept her help anyways. This won’t be anything different. Really.

“Hmmm,” she taps her finger against the arm rest. “Fine. I can see where this is going. Do be a dear and show me out, at least.”

Oh thank fuck. 

Tim thought she’d never leave. And part of him feels guilty for that. Because she’s his mom. The rest of him remembers long nights wishing for his parents to come home, long nights waiting for the other shoe to drop. Janet raises her arm, causing Tim to flinch.

“Sure. Let’s not do this for another year, all right?” he winces even though he can’t take the words back. 

Her eyes shutter, hiding behind years of masks.

“Sorry,” Tim falls back, hand only just stopping the door from closing. “Sorry, mom.”

“Goodbye, Timothy,” Janet’s voice is cool, detached. She doesn’t acknowledge the apology as she steps out into the hall. “I’ll see you when I return from France.”

The door shuts behind her with a soft click. Tim barely refrains from screaming, instead, burying his face in his hands and sinking to the floor.

“Hey, Timbo,” Jason knocks his hand against the top of Tim’s head. “You good?”

“Mmah.”

He hopes that will be enough. Hopes that the non-answer will satisfy Jason enough that he’ll let Tim stew in his own regrets.

“Look, I get it, yanno?” and he does. Jason knows a thing or two about shitty parents -- probably more. “But she’s still ya madre, si? She’s still here.”

Tim knows that. Knows that it could be worse, could be different. But it’s, it’s not easy. Not by any stretch and Tim’s never had a healthy handle on dealing with things. Mostly he just pushes them into a corner of his mind until they explode in his face.

“I know,” Tim taps a fist against Jason’s, which still hasn’t moved from beside his head. “I know. I’m just. I’m going to head back to bed.”

“All right, ya need me though--”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim works his way to his feet, stumbling once or twice in the sheer exhaustion he feels. “I’ll come out and we’ll talk feelings.”

“Cabron.”

But Jason doesn’t push. Doesn’t do anything but roll his eyes and return to the kitchen.

Tim’s okay with that. It gives him room to breathe; room to shuffle-stumble into his room and attempt to smother himself in his feelings of guilt and self-loathing.

“Hey, pendejo.” 

Tim flinches, reflexively throwing the pillow he was trying to smother himself in. When he looks, Jason’s leaning against the door jam, arms folded and tense. 

“If ya don’t got no one, I mean, we can do it. Say we decided we’re better just as friends when it’s over, ya get me?”

Tim smiles, small and tired. He appreciates the offer. Knows how much it’s taken Jason to make it. But all he wants to do right now is to curl up in his bed sheets and sleep for a year. “Thanks, Jayce. But you and I both know that would be worse than me showing up with an escort.”

Jason frowns, shifting like he’s not entirely sold. Tim might have different thoughts if there were less time, if he knew less of how Jason felt about a certain someone.

“Besides,” he straightens into a sitting position, popping his shoulders and back. “You know Lian would be devastated if you couldn’t go as her and Roy’s date.”

The swearing and threats are worth the blush that steadily engulfs Jason’s face. Though, Tim thinks as Jason storms off, the dick could have given him his pillow back.

<<<<>>>>

Tim has gone through his list of friends and acquaintances so many times he feels dizzy. But none of them are a suitable ‘person that he has sort of been seeing’. Mostly because Steph knows most of his friends and will definitely call his bluff. Not that she wouldn’t call his bluff if he hired an escort like Janet told him to.

“I’m dead, Kon, dead.”

His betrayer of a friend laughs into his lunch. “Dude, I told you man, just come clean.”

“I can’t,” Tim buries his face further into his hands, shoving his left over potato chips away. “Bruce is excited for me, Kon. Excited! He wants to do the whole protective parent speech.”

Kon snorts, choking on his chicken salad. Serves him right.

“And you never did tell me why you were here,” Tim stares at him through his fingers, trying to impart a glare.

“Clark’s got me running a piece on the recent murders,” he takes a too large bite, obnoxiously chewing in Tim’s face before continuing. “Figured I’d talk to the primary responding officer from a few of the scenes -- an Officer, uh, Grayson?”

Tim sighs. Yeah, he knows Officer Grayson. Sort of. Most of the Bludhaven PD does. If only because there’s a not so secret fanclub about him and his ass. “I don’t know how much he’ll be able to help. It’s been a brutal case with little to no leads.”

“Unfortunately,” the voice shouldn’t be a surprise. Tim knows that Officer Grayson is on shift today. Knows that there are a number of different officers and detectives that are in and out of the lunch room on a regular basis. It still scares the shit out of him. “Mr. Drake is right. I don’t think I’ll be much help, at least right now.”

Kon throws the remains of his sandwich, falling backwards out of his chair. Tim wishes he reacted more calmly, but as it is, it feels like his heart is in his throat.

“Fucking hell!”

There, standing behind them, with such a sheepish boy scout grin on his face, is in fact Officer Grayson. He looks to be just back from a call, if the file of paper under his arm is any indication.

“I’m sorry!” he holds his unoccupied hand up, eyes widening as he takes in the sprawled form of Kon and the way Tim’s clutching at his chest. “I didn’t think you were in such a deep conversation. I mean, I sort of guessed that because of what you were talking about earlier -- I just, I guess I thought you noticed me coming into the room? Uh, maybe forget that I heard any of it, it seemed kind of, personal?”

“No harm, dude. Probably shouldn’t be having such a personal discussion where anyone can hear.” Kon groans in despair as he attempts to sit up. He completely ignores Tim’s mutter of ‘a lot of harm was done to my fucking heart’. “But hey, I’ll still interview you. Any time you prefer?”

Officer Grayson’s boy scout grin shouldn’t be so charming. But damned if it isn’t.

“Maybe Friday? I think my afternoon is mostly catching up on paperwork.”

“Sweet, thanks dude!” Kon finally gets seated back in his chair. He sinks into it with a over exaggerated groan. “Clark’ll be off my ass if I give him a proper timeline.”

Even Officer Grayson’s bemused looks are attractive, fuck.

“Hey, Tim?” Kon waves a hand in front of his face, almost smashing his palm into Tim’s nose. “You still with me? Or have you offed yourself already in the face of your utter humiliation at having to come clean about not having a boyfriend?”

“If I hadn't already, I’m going to now,” Tim wishes the floor would conveniently sink in. “Thanks for going into such great detail in front of my coworkers.”

“Oh, hey, no.” Officer Grayson actually looks concerned, brows furrowed and lips turned down. “Everyone has problems, Mr. Drake--”

“Tim, Officer Grayson,” he waves at his disheveled appearance. “I’m only a filing clerk.”

“-- then call me Dick, please.”

God. Why is the world torturing him with this right now? Tim turns away, feeling a flush creep up his neck. Not only is Officer Grayson attractive -- okay, so Tim may have been part of the fanclub back when he first started a few years ago -- he’s so fucking nice too.

“And, I mean, why not find someone here?”

Wait. Pause. Tim kicks Kon under the table, not liking the look on his face.

“I’m sorry?”

Officer Grayson -- Dick, smiles, swinging himself down into one of the unoccupied chairs at the table. “Why not ask someone here to help you out? From what I understood of your, uh, conversation, you just need someone to pretend to date you for a few months, right?”

That is a terrible idea.

Tim works with these people. He has to face them every single day. And that has to be against the regulations.

“That has to be against regulations.”

Kon snorts, shoulders shaking in suppressed laughter.

Offic -- Dick shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t think so. Not unless you’re partners in the field.”

“Hey man, it’s a good idea!”

Tim has no friend named Kon. That traitor is dead to him.

“No, no, seriously Tim. Think about it! You told Steph you were sort of seeing the guy, that it’s new and you haven’t really talked about what it is. I mean, coworkers are a great answer to that!”

It’s an okay idea. Maybe. If Tim can get past the humiliation and ask one of his coworkers.

“Hey,” Of -- Dick nudges Tim’s arm with his hand, head tilted and smile firmly in place. “I’d be more than willing to help, if you want?”

This is a terrible idea.

“Or if you’re comfortable with that,” he scratches the back of his head, eyes flickering to the side as his smile drops for just a second. “I mean, I know we don’t actually know each other, just in passing and we’ve shared only a few conversations about paperwork--”

Tim doesn’t remember that. But he’s had conversations with friends that he doesn’t remember -- the only reason he knows about them is because the assholes like to record his sleep deprived ass.

“-- but if you were comfortable with it, I’d love to help you.”

Well fuck.

“I, uh, sure?” this can’t be real. The number one bachelor of Bludhaven PD did not just offer to help Tim fake out his friends and family.

“Great!” Dick’s smile is blinding as he bounces out of the chair. “You’re shift ends at four, right? I’m here until six, but we can get dinner and talk it over when I’m off?”

Tim nods, head lost in a daze of confusion. “Sure, that sounds good. Uh, my number is on the staff directory, if you want to text me?”

“Will do,” he grabs his file, turning to Kon. “You can set up an appointment for Friday with Gracie at the front, that way they can’t change my schedule last minute.”

They watch as Dick all but bounces out of the lunch room. This has to be a dream. None of the last, well, twenty minutes could have been real, right?

“Duuuude,” Kon whistles, leaning back in his chair. “I think you just got a date.”

“There is no way that Officer Richard Grayson wants to actually go out with, with this.” Tim gestures at himself and laughs, high pitched and bit hysterical. “He’s just, so fucking nice. To everyone.”

“Uh huh,” he reaches forwards, pinching Tim hard enough to bruise. “Because, dude, I am calling it as I see it and that hot piece of ass wants you.”

That’s not what it is. And Tim’s not going to argue with Kon over it.

Maybe it’ll work out.

Either way, Tim now has a sort of plan. He can work with that.

Probably.

<<<<>>>>

Tim doesn’t spend the afternoon pacing.

Really he doesn’t.

Because Jason’s home and would know something was up. The last thing Tim wants to do right now is to explain how his coworker slash number one Bludhaven PD bachelor is willing to pretend to date him.

Tim’s not even sure he has wrapped his own mind around it.

Which is why, when his phone goes off a little after six fifteen, he yelps and throws it across his room. It hits the wall with a crack and Tim hopes it’s not broken. He can’t really afford another one at this point, unless he asks Janet for some money and that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“What’re ya doing, chillón?”

Tim stares at Jason, wide-eyed and clutching his chest. “Uuuuuuh, nothing?”

Jason cocks and eyebrow, lips pursed. “Sounds like a question.”

“It isn’t!” Tim knows he sounds defensive. Knows that he probably looks a mess too. “I mean, I wouldn’t have to ask the question because I am doing nothing. Nothing at all. You can go back to, uh, whatever it was you were doing.”

“Déjate de mamadas. Just tell me, would ya? Ya know I ain’t gonna laugh,” he pauses. “Well, probably.”

“I, uh,” Tim swallows, inching forwards off his bed so he can retrieve his phone. If he can get through this with Jason he can get through this with everyone else. Right. Just do it Timothy Drake. Take the plunge. “I might have a date?”

Jason’s surprise should be insulting. Should be. But Tim knows he’s a mess and knows that this isn’t actually a date. So.

“Good luck with that,” the a in ‘that’ is drawn out. Tim watches as Jason stares at him, obviously trying to decide if he’s serious or not. He must decide that Tim is, because he frowns, twisting his hands in knots. “Phone when ya get there and when ya leaving. Ain’t want to get told ya dead by the cops.”

Tim feels like he should be insulted on his own behalf. He doesn’t have that shit a taste in dates. Generally. And he definitely feels insulted on Dick’s behalf. 

“Uh, well, he is a cop?” He takes the chance to dive for his phone, not really wanting to see Jason’s reaction. “I met him at work.”

The case has a crack in it, but the phone itself seems to be fine. Tim unlocks it, heart speeding up when he sees a text from an unknown number.

_ ‘hey tim. 8D it’s dick from work. :police officer: where u wanna go for dinner? :pizza:’ _

The answer is somewhere cheap. Maybe the diner down the street?

_ ‘uh, do you know the diner -- Mack’s -- on the corner of 7th and Westbrook?’ _

“He’s a cop ya met at work.” Jason’s voice is flat. When Tim looks up at Jason, his face looks like it was carved out of marble. Shit.

_ ‘the 1 that serves all day brkfst?!?!?! 8)8)8)8)8)’ _

“He, uh,” Tim glances down at the text, smiling slightly and then feeling guilty about it. He quickly types out an affirmative, asking to meet there at seven. “He might’ve overheard Kon and I talking about my situation?”

That cracks the stone look on Jason’s face. For a minute there’s pure rage that shines through. “He ain’t taking advantage of ya, right? How ya even know what type o’ guy he is?”

“No!” Tim can’t help how he raises his voice, can’t help how his mouth gapes open in shock. He knows that Jason has issues with police officers, knows that it’s reasonable even. But. “Dick’s not like that, I swear Jayce! He was really concerned about me being uncomfortable and not wanting to do it.”

Jason stares at him, eyes never leaving Tim’s face. Tim forces himself to stare back, even when his phone vibrates with a notification.

“Dick?”

Tim swallows, fidgeting with his phone and wanting to look at the screen. But with the way Jason’s watching him he feels like he shouldn’t. Feels like he needs to be here in the conversation. He owes that to Jason, for all the shit he puts him through.

“Yeah,” Tim really hopes that this cop isn’t someone Jason has a problem with. “Officer Richard Grayson. He’s a patrol of--”

“Patrol officer. Has a fanclub based on his ass.”

Well. Jason definitely knows _ of _ him. 

“Yeah,” Tim shifts forward, squinting at Jason’s face. His face has softened a bit at least. Whether that is a good thing or a bad thing is yet to be seen. “Is that a good recognition or is that a bad recognition?”

Jason snorts. “Ain’t neither. I’ve known worse puerco.”

“That,” Tim pauses, debating whether he should really comment. He watches as Jason physically relaxes his shoulders and decides it should be okay. “Isn’t really a glowing endorsement, Jayce.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, flipping his hand back and forth. “As ya say, if the shoe fits. But nah, he ain’t no wacho. Just, be careful, yeah?”

“I will,” Tim lets out a sigh of relief. He glances at his phone then, taking in the thumbs up emoji Dick sent him back at least five minutes ago. “We’re going to be meeting at Mack’s for seven.”

Tim refuses to feel embarrassed at Jason’s raised eyebrow.

“What? I don’t get paid until next week and Mack’s is close by and cheap.”

There’s a flush creeping up Tim’s neck. It only gets worse when Jason barks out a laugh.

“Yeah,” he turns to leave, throwing his right hand up in a wave. “Ain’t got nothin’ to do with Mack being sweet on ya.”

“Jason!” No matter how many times Jason says things like this, Tim can’t help but react. Even when he knows that Jason only says it to get one. “She’s old enough to be my grandmother!”

But at least Jason doesn’t seem to be going further into protective bear mode. Tim knows he’s been sort of there since he found out about Tim’s hospital trip. Knows that he’d be just as worried if Jason did something this stupid.

He probably should have told Jason about the offer as soon as he got home. Hell, Tim probably shouldn’t have accepted the offer from Dick when he’s such a mess. A flare of anxiety makes his chest ache, breath catching in his lungs.

Tim jumps up, racing after Jason and barely catching himself on the wall before his face collides with it. “We good, Jayce? Because I mean if--”

A hand smacks the back of his head. “Si, pendejo. We good. Now go get ready for ya date. Dios sabe que lo necesitas.”

“Rude,” Tim pretends that he’s hurt, rubbing the back of his head and grimacing.

“I’ll show ya rude,” he brought his hands up, making fists. “Now get.”

Tim’ll probably have a breakdown when he gets home, but for now he rushes back to his room to get ready.

<<<<<>>>>>

Dick’s already there when Tim stumbles into Mack’s twenty minutes early. He smiles sheepishly and waves at Tim from his spot at the counter. Tim opens his mouth to greet him -- his chest feels tight and his breathing is coming too quickly; he thought he’d be the first one there -- and ends up tripping. Tim throws out an arm, barely managing to catch a table to avoid face planting in front of his sort of date.

“Tim!” Dick’s in front of him, hands hovering over Tim’s shoulder and brows furrowed in concern. “Are you all right?”

“Uh,” he straightens up, wincing as his arm twinges with the movement. “Probably?”

Dick doesn’t look impressed. In fact, going by the eyebrow he’s raising this is probably going to be their first and last ‘date’.

“You know,” he reaches out, gently setting his hand on Tim’s arm and helping him to a booth. “That would sound more convincing if you didn’t phrase it as a question, handsome.”

Handsome. Handsome. Wait, pause.  _ Handsome _ . Sorry life, Tim’s brain has checked out right now. Come back in a few minutes when it reboots.

“And you hit your arm pretty hard, let me look at it.”

Tim sits down when Dick gestures for him to. But he’s fine. Really. “I’m fine, really.”

Dick raises his eyebrow again as he prods at Tim’s elbow. Tim flinches, hissing through his teeth. That certainly does hurt. Almost burns.

“It’s fine, huh?”

There’s a flush creeping up Tim’s neck. What a great way to start this. Dick doesn’t seem upset, at least, Tim doesn’t think so. He sort of seems fondly exasperated? Normally people have to spend more than a few minutes in passing with Tim to get to that point.

“Seriously, you don’t have to!”

Someone smacks the back of his head. It works as an excellent counter pain, but he’s pretty sure Jason is still at home, so the normal suspect is out. It distracts him enough that when Dick takes his elbow in his hands, Tim yelps.

“Let the man check ya over,” Mack smokes three packs of cigarettes a week and her voice reflects that -- but it’s not bad. It comforts Tim to hear it. Reminds him of long nights spent wired on adrenaline and drugs as the days blur together. Mack hits him again, because she’s a sadist and always seems to know when Tim’s thoughts are going dark. “Lord knows ya ain’t taking care of yaself.”

“Rude.”

“Uh huh,” she crosses her arms, tapping her foot impatiently and waving at Dick to keep working. “I’ll show ya rude, boy.”

“Yeah, and who’d win that fight?”

And there goes his brain to mouth filter. Mack knows not to take him seriously -- at least, most of the time. But Dick doesn’t. Hell, Dick doesn’t know that Tim’s been coming here for years.

“Boy,” Mack throws her head back, letting her shoulders shake with the laughter that explodes from her throat. “Ya years too early t’ pick a fight with me. Try again when ya got some meat on ya bones.”

“Rude,” he says it softly this time, hoping she doesn’t hear it as well and can take it as just nonsense. 

She stares at Tim, eyes sharper than ever. But she doesn’t comment, just turns her attention to Dick, who’s still got his fingers curled loosely around Tim’s elbow. He’s been quiet throughout most of their interaction so far. “So, how much damage did this idiot do to himself?”

“Ma--”

“Uh uh,” she turns away from Tim, dismissing him with a wave. “Ain’t got no time for ya bullshit. Let the man answer.”

“It’s not too bad,” Dick smiles at Mack, letting his fingers gently trail along Tim’s arm. Everywhere he touches hurts -- but Tim can still feel his face getting more and more red. He refuses to look at anything but the table. “There’s definitely going to be a bruise and it might be sprained, there’s some swelling started already. But I don’t think he’s broken anything. I’d like to wrap it, just in case.”

“Then I’ll get ya the first aid kit,” Mack turns, raising her voice to be heard as she walks away. “Meal’s on the house.”

“Mack!”

But she ignores Tim. This is not how he thought this night would go. Not at all.

When Tim finally gets the nerve to look at Dick, there’s a smile on his face. It’s soft, just a slight curve of his lips; but it takes Tim’s breath away. Fuck. He thought he’d gotten over his crush on Officer Grayson two years ago during the fanclub debacle. 

“So,” Tim clears his throat, fighting to ignore how hot his face feels. “Sorry about such a terrible first date.”

Dick laughs. It’s low and rough, almost like a landslide, and Tim just wants to crawl into it and exist.

He’s fucked.

“Hey,” Dick taps his fingers on Tim’s wrist -- he still hasn’t let go of Tim, which is not helping his blush. “It’s perfectly all right. My family’s similar.”

Tim swallows, wrist twitching. It draws Dick’s attention.

“Are you all right with me touching you?” he frowns. “I don’t want to let you move your arm until I wrap it, but I mean, as soon as that’s done I won’t touch you again unless you initiate it. You get to choose if you’re comfortable with that. I’ve been told I’m too physical at times and I mean--”

“Here ya boys are,” Mack has impeccable timing. Tim doesn’t know how he would have stopped Dick from talking when all he wants to do is lean forwards and kiss him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Pffft. Mack, young man. I ain’t no ma’am.”

“Thank you, Mack.”

She grins, bright and mischievous, eyes twinkling with a promise of humiliation. “Not a problem. Any man of Tim’s is more than welcome here.”

If he could, Tim would sink through the floor. Or bash his head against the table. He’s not picky.

“Maaaaaaaack.”

“Oh,” she tsks, flicking Tim’s forehead so as not to jostle him too much. “Stop ya whining. Ya boys decided what ya want to eat?”

Dick looks up at Tim, hands still carefully wrapping the tension bandage around his elbow. “I’m okay with the daily breakfast special. What about you, handsome?”

“I, uh,” there’s the blush again. “Yeah, me too.”

Mack heads back to the kitchen, snickering. Tim’s going to get revenge for this. Just you wait Mack; sleep with one eye open.

“Yeah, so, sorry about her. She’s like, a grandmother figure who wants you to suffer.”

Tim refuses to look up at Dick. This is the worst start to any fake relationship he could ever have.

“Hey,” Dick nudges Tim’s chin with his knuckles. “I’m serious that it’s okay. I have a little brother who doesn’t know what social queues are. He’s so embarrassing, let me tell you. He once walked in on our dad during, well, sex and asked why there was an intruder and why she was, uh, ‘unclothed’. Now, he happened to yell this at the top of his voice, so I thought something was wrong at first.”

Tim snorts, choking back a pained hiss as his elbow is jostled.

“He didn’t!”

“Oh, he did.”

Tim chances a glance at Dick and he’s grinning, dazzling in the fluorescent light.

“Not only did he do that, he offered to go get his bokken to help deal with the intruder.” Dick’s laugh is rumbles through the air between them again. “At least I was too embarrassed to really look at either dad or ‘Lina. I didn’t have to take in either of their state of undress.”

He stops talking, hands settling on the edges of the compression bandage -- Tim doesn’t remember when he finished wrapping his elbow. There’s a soft, fond smile on Dick’s face. Tim thinks he can almost feel his heart skipping beats.

“Weeeeeell,” he draws out the vowel, half to distract himself and half to think of something to say, now that he’s started talking. Why has he never learnt how to not open his stupid mouth? “That is definitely less embarrassing than this.”

“Isn’t it?”

Tim wants to whine as Dick pulls his hands away. He valiantly holds it in, which is a good thing, because Mack’s just come back with their plates.

“Either of ya want any coffee?”

“No thanks, ma’a--Mack, I’m good. Tim?”

Tim really wants a cup of coffee. But he’s supposed to be trying to be healthier. And he’s pretty sure drinking coffee at eight twenty -- when did it get so late? They can’t have been here for over and hour and a half already -- is not healthy. At least, not for someone on a normal sleep schedule.

“I shouldn’t.”

Mack snorts. “Shouldn’t ain’t stopped ya before, boy.”

“What about decaf?”

“That is not something that exists.” It’s out of his mouth before Tim can stop it. He’d meant to reply to Mack but Dick just had to go there. Lying about coffee. If this were Jason, he’d know better. Hell, Steph knows better than to imply that that abomination is real. He’s about to start into a rant when he realizes he really shouldn’t. So, he snaps his mouth closed and stares at Dick, eyes wide. But Dick is only looking back at him bemused.

“You don’t think that decaf is a thing?”

Tim tries to stop himself. He really does. How was Dick to know that’s one of his buttons? Really. The poor man has no idea what door he opened.

“You need to wash your mouth out. Who told you about that, that--”

“Abomination, boy?”

“Yes! Abomination!” Tim hits the table with his good arm, half rising from his seat. “We’re going to have to re-educate you. Mack!”

“Not helping, boy. Just focus on ya date, those plans will hold.” She continues to laugh at him, shaking her head and muttering something about a good decision. Tim wants to call her back, but when he looks at Dick, he no longer looks bemused. He looks almost, longing?

“Oh, uh,” Tim forgets about his elbow for a minute. Just a minute. But it’s a minute too long. He flops back in his seat, smacking his arm on the way down. It burns more than when he did it earlier this evening. “¡Chinga a tu madre!”

Dick chokes on his eggs, hand raising in front of his mouth to stop himself from spitting eggs everywhere. “A-all right. I wa-wasn’t expecting that.”

“I learnt it from my roommate!” Tim picks up his fork, shoving a piece of sausage in his mouth. His face is heating up at a frankly astonishing speed. This night needs to get better -- or it needs to end.

“It’s cool,” Dick coughs a few more times, dislodging whatever was stuck in his throat. “I mean, I shouldn’t say I didn’t think you could swear. I just wasn’t thinking Spanish.”

“A-ha,” he doesn’t normally. It’s probably because Jason’s spent the last week and half swearing at him every time he was home. “Well, when you get yelled at enough in it, you tend to pick up some phrases.”

Dick’s eyes crinkle. He looks like he’s debating between being concerned and amused.

“Yeah, I hear you. But I'm pretty sure this table doesn’t have a mom.”

“It’s not literal!” Tim’s going to combust. Death by spontaneous combustion. “I mean, at least not when Jayce says it, and I’ve taken it to really never be literal?”

There’s that rumbling laughter again. “I’m kidding, Tim. Really. I’ve heard much worse when I’ve had to arrest, well, anyone.”

Tim doesn’t know what to say. Because, well, Tim’s said worse than that -- back in his teenage years that definitely did not happen. So, he shoves more food in his mouth and let’s the quiet settle in the air between them. If he’s eating he can’t make an ass out of himself. Probably.

Unfortunately, there is no more distraction when they both finish eating.

“So,” Dick leans forward, pushing his plate to the side. “We need to discuss what all you’re comfortable with.”

Tim taps his fingers against the table. It’s a good question. And considering how much of a mess he is normally, it’s probably good to get this out of the way first.

“Well, uh, actually, I’m okay with touching and things? I just, am, a mess anyways. So, even if I flinch or flail or stutter or, or, or--”

“Slow down, handsome.”

And here comes the flush again.

“I think,” Dick pauses, tilting his head to try to catch Tim’s eyes. But Tim’s refusing to look at him. He sighs and leans back. “That I should list some things and you can tell me yes or no. No maybes or all rights, okay?” Dick pulls a notebook out of somewhere, hastily finding a space to write. It’s sort of amusing but mostly Tim finds it charming. None of his old partners were ever as thorough in making sure Tim felt comfortable.

“Okay. I can do that,” Tim can. He’s pretty sure. The smile he gets is shining and Tim might be more than a little fucked. It takes him a few minutes to realize that Dick is staring at him, he probably started asking already. “Uh, maybe you could repeat that?”

Dick’s laugh sends tingles down Tim’s spine but he forces himself to pay attention this time.

“Well, let’s start with casual touches to your arms and shoulders.”

“Yes,” Tim wants to say that he’s more than okay with that and that he should be used to people just brushing up against him. But Dick asked him for a yes or no answer. He probably should stick to that.

“Hand holding?”

“Yes.”

And so it goes on. When Tim stumbles or stutters over an answer, Dick marks it down as a no. It really shouldn’t be. Like when Dick asked about kisses. Tim’s more than willing to have Dick kiss him and probably kiss him back. It’s just, well, Tim’s getting embarrassed thinking about it and he just wants to crawl into a hole and combust. When Dick finishes his questions, Tim gathers the courage to speak up about it.

“Uh, Dick,” Tim clears his throat, eyes darting over to make sure Mack is no where in the vicinity. “I know you said that if I stuttered or stumbled that, that it was a no but--”

The door slams open, glass vibrating in it’s frame. Tim will deny it, but he yelps and tries to duck under the table. He’s thwarted by his elbow, which throbs in time with his racing heartbeat.

“¡Pendejo!”

Well, shit.


End file.
